45. Niharika called him

Shivaay stormed into his penthouse, his entire body trembling with rage. His mind replayed Kanishk’s vile words over and over again, each one fanning the flames of his fury.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, he let out a roar of frustration that echoed through the lavish space.

“I should have killed him that time!” he bellowed, his voice raw and laced with venom. The penthouse, usually a symbol of calm and control, became a battlefield for his anger.

In a fit of rage, he grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it against the wall. The crash was deafening, the shards scattering across the floor. One by one, objects met the same fate—a lamp, a glass, even a chair. Destruction seemed to be the only solace he could find at that moment, the only outlet for the storm raging inside him.

His breaths were uneven, his chest heaving as he paused for a moment, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes, dark and wild, scanned the room for the next thing to destroy.

But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to quell the burning fury within him. The thought of Kanishk, his audacity to lay claim to his Niharika, made Shivaay’s blood boil. How dare he? How dare he think he had any right to her?

He punched the wall, the sharp pain barely registering as he muttered under his breath, "I should have ended him when I had the chance. I should have made sure he could never even utter her name."

The room was a mess—shattered glass, broken furniture, and the remnants of Shivaay’s control lay scattered around him. But the chaos outside was nothing compared to the storm brewing within him.

Through clenched teeth, he growled, “This ends here, Kanishk. You’ve started this game, but I’ll make sure I finish it. And this time, I won’t stop until you’re destroyed.”

Shivaay's voice was a low, dangerous growl as he paced the room, his fists clenching and unclenching with barely contained fury. His mind raced with thoughts of vengeance, the image of Kanishk’s smug face taunting him relentlessly.

"I will take revenge for what you did to my Niharika," he seethed, his voice trembling with anger. His words were more a vow than a threat, echoing through the room like a deadly promise.

His chest heaved as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his mind replaying every moment of Niharika's pain, every tear she had shed because of Kanishk. The thought of her suffering made his blood boil. He wanted nothing more than to erase every trace of Kanishk Verma from her life—no, from existence itself.

"You dared to hurt her," Shivaay continued, his voice rising with each word. "You dared to touch her, to tarnish her purity with your filth. You think you can claim her? You think you can take her from me? I'll make you regret every single moment you spent plotting against her."

His rage surged as he picked up a crystal decanter and smashed it against the wall, the shards scattering like his scattered emotions. He stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes wild with determination.

"This isn’t over, Verma," he muttered, his voice low and menacing. "You started this game, but I'll make sure it ends with your destruction. You’ll pay for every ounce of pain you caused her. You’ll pay for every tear she cried. Niharika is mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take her away from me."

As the silence settled around him, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing, Shivaay made a solemn vow to himself. Kanishk Verma would face the full force of his wrath, and this time, there would be no mercy.

In India, the soft rays of the morning sun filtered through the intricate carvings of the mandir, casting a golden hue over everything. The faint aroma of incense filled the air as Niharika sat quietly before the idol, her delicate fingers carefully lighting a diya. She had been feeling an inexplicable unease all morning, a weight pressing on her heart that she couldn’t shake.

As she adjusted the wick, a sudden gust of wind swept through the mandir, making the diya flicker wildly, its flame on the verge of extinguishing. Her heart skipped a beat, and without hesitation, she cupped her hand around the flame, shielding it from the wind.

"Not today," she murmured softly, her voice barely audible, yet filled with determination.

The flame steadied, burning brightly once more, and Niharika let out a relieved breath. She gazed at the diya, her eyes reflecting the flickering light. A silent prayer escaped her lips, her heart reaching out to the divine for protection—for herself, for Shivaay, for everything she held dear.

"Why do I feel like something is wrong?" she whispered, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of her dupatta. "Shivaay… I hope you’re safe."

Her thoughts lingered on him, a strange sense of foreboding tightening her chest. She closed her eyes, pressing her hands together in prayer, her mind repeating his name like a mantra. Whatever storm was coming, she knew she had to be strong—for him, for their love.

The diya’s flame danced steadily now, as if mirroring her resolve.

Niharika managed to complete the puja, her movements mechanical as her mind remained elsewhere. The unsettling feeling in her chest refused to fade, making it harder for her to focus. She placed the puja thali back in its place, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her dupatta.

Without saying a word to anyone, she made her way to her room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. Her eyes immediately went to the table where her phone lay.

Her steps were hesitant as she walked over, picking it up and staring at the blank screen. Her thumb hovered over Shivaay’s contact, her mind conflicted.

Should I call him? she wondered, biting her lower lip nervously. What if he’s busy? What if it’s nothing, and I’m just overthinking?

But the unease wouldn’t leave her. Her intuition screamed that something was wrong, and her heart ached with the thought of him being in trouble.

She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the phone tightly, her eyes still fixed on his name. "Shivaay," she whispered to herself, her voice soft but full of emotion. "Why am I feeling this way? Are you okay?"

Her fingers brushed against the call button, but she hesitated, closing her eyes as if searching for an answer within herself.

No, if something was wrong, he would have told me… right? She tried to reason with herself, but the gnawing feeling in her chest refused to let her rest.

Finally, she let out a shaky breath and placed the phone on her lap. "Maybe I’ll wait a little while," she murmured, though she wasn’t sure if she could keep herself from calling him much longer.

Shivaay sat against the bed, his back pressed to the headboard, surrounded by the chaos of the room he had torn apart. His bloodshot eyes glared at nothing in particular, his breathing heavy as the champagne bottle in his hand dangled precariously. Kanishk’s taunting words about Niharika kept replaying in his mind, fueling his anger. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. Without bothering to check who it was, he snatched it and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff, almost growling.

“Hello, Shivaay?”

His body froze. That voice—it was soft, soothing, and unmistakable. The champagne bottle slipped from his hand, landing on the carpet with a dull thud as its contents spilled. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he was too stunned to respond.

“Niharika?” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Yes,” she replied gently, her tone tinged with concern. “Are you okay? You sound... off.”

Shivaay swallowed hard, his chest tightening at her concern. Her voice felt like an anchor, pulling him back from the storm raging within him. “I—” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I’m fine. What about you? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, though there was a slight hesitation in her voice. “I don’t know why, but I felt uneasy. I thought I should call you.”

Her words sent a pang through his chest. Even miles away, she could sense something wasn’t right. “You did the right thing,” he said softly, the roughness in his voice easing.

“How are things in California?” she asked, her tone lightening.

“Normal,” he lied, his eyes darting to the wreckage around him. Desperate to change the subject, he added, “Riya told me you went shopping with Ishaan and Ivaan. Did you get a diamond ring?”

There was a pause before she chuckled, a sweet, melodious sound that instantly soothed him. “How do you know about the ring? Did Riya tell you everything?”

He smirked faintly, leaning back against the headboard. “Maybe,” he replied casually, though the thought of Riya spilling details about her made him oddly grateful.

“Well,” she began, her voice filled with warmth, “Ishu and Vaan practically dragged me to the counter. They wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Shivaay’s jaw tightened at the mention of the nicknames she had for his brothers. Ishu and Vaan. The casual affection in her tone stirred a pang of jealousy that he tried to suppress.

“Did they now?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yeah,” she replied with a small laugh. “They’re so stubborn. But I’ll admit, they have great taste.”

He hummed in response, struggling to push aside the possessive thoughts swirling in his mind. Hearing her so comfortable with his brothers shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. He wanted to be the only one she trusted, the only one she laughed with so freely.

“Shivaay?” Her voice, gentle and concerned, pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked softly. “You sound distracted.”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, though his voice softened. “But, Niharika...”

“Yes?”

“If you feel uneasy again, or if anything happens, promise me you’ll tell me immediately,” he said, his tone firm but laced with concern.

She paused, sensing the seriousness in his words. “I promise, Shivaay.”

“Good,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Her tone softened, too. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t overthink. Everything’s fine here.”

“I will,” he promised. “You take care too, Niharika.”

As the call ended, Shivaay sat in silence, her voice lingering in his mind. It had steadied him in a way nothing else could. She had that effect on him—calming his rage, grounding him when everything else felt like chaos.

But as the silence settled, his anger returned, sharper and more focused. His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists.

“Kanishk,” he muttered, his voice low and venomous. “You dared to speak her name. You dared to touch what’s mine. I swear, you’ll regret it. I’ll destroy you before you even think of coming near her again.”

For Shivaay, the war had already begun. And no matter what, he would protect Niharika at all costs.

Shivaay's gaze fell on the champagne bottle, its contents spilling slowly across the floor. He stared at it for a moment, the temptation to grab it and drown his anger in alcohol almost overwhelming. His hand reached out instinctively, but just as his fingers brushed the bottle, something held him back.

He remembered her—Niharika. Her soft voice, the warmth of her concern, the promise she made to always be there. The memory of her smile flooded his mind, replacing the chaos and fury inside him with a strange calm.

A slow, almost wistful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He put the bottle back on the table, his hand lingering for a moment before withdrawing.

"Why do I need this?" he murmured to himself, his voice low yet filled with determination. "When I have my Niharika with me."

The thought of her steadied him, reminding him of the reason he fought, the reason he endured. She was his anchor, the one thing that mattered more than anything else. No matter how tangled his thoughts or consumed his emotions, Niharika was the calm in the storm.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his anger slowly dissipate as he thought of her. This, he realized, was the strength he needed to face whatever was coming. With Niharika by his side, he could overcome anything—even Kanishk’s taunts, even the threats looming on the horizon.

Shivaay stood up, his resolve firming. No more distractions. He would protect her, no matter the cost.

In India, Niharika sat by her window, the soft morning sunlight casting a warm glow over her room. Her thoughts had been a whirlwind of emotions, and as the minutes ticked by, she realized something—she needed to hear his voice. The unease that had been gnawing at her earlier had faded, but still, there was a lingering feeling that she couldn't shake off.

She picked up her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her heart pounding slightly. Without thinking any further, she dialed his number. The call connected, and she pressed the phone to her ear, feeling the butterflies stir in her stomach.

After a few seconds, she heard his voice, rough with something she couldn’t quite place, but undeniably comforting. "Niharika? Are you okay?"

Her lips curled into a gentle smile at the sound of his voice. "I’m fine, Shivaay. Just wanted to hear your voice."

There was a pause on the other end, and then she heard him exhale. "You called me for that?" he asked, his tone a mixture of disbelief and something softer, a hint of tenderness.

"Yes," she replied, her smile growing. "It feels good to talk to you."

She could almost hear the tension in his voice ease as he spoke again. "I’m glad you called. I was... just thinking about you."

Niharika closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the connection, the warmth of his words. She realized then that calling him had been the nicest decision she could have made. No matter the distance or the challenges ahead, this moment, this conversation, was enough to soothe the restlessness within her.

As they spoke, the unease she had felt earlier melted away, and for the first time in a while, she felt at peace. She knew that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

As the phone call ended, Niharika sat back, her mind racing with a mix of emotions. The soft, reassuring tone of Shivaay's voice still echoed in her ears. His words had been so different, so thoughtful, that she couldn’t help but wonder when he had changed.

When did he become this version of Shivaay? she thought, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the phone. She remembered the cold, ruthless man he had once been, the one who had always been wrapped up in his power and authority. But now... now he felt different, like there was something more to him than just the CEO, the mafia king.

I don’t know when it happened, she mused, a small smile tugging at her lips. But it feels like this is the real Shivaay.

The man who cared. The man who protected. The man who made her feel safe.

Niharika placed the phone on her side table and let out a long breath, trying to sort through her thoughts. She was used to being cautious with her heart, used to keeping a distance, especially with someone like Shivaay. But now, for some reason, it didn’t feel as hard to let him in.

Maybe I’m starting to trust him more than I thought I ever would... she thought, her heart skipping a beat.

She stood up and walked toward the window, gazing out at the vast sky. Despite the chaos in her life, despite the uncertainties, a sense of peace had begun to settle within her. It was strange, but it felt right.

And as the soft light of the morning poured into the room, she realized something she hadn’t before—maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she had once believed.

Niharika walked down the stairs with a smile that seemed to light up the entire room. It had been one and a half months since her wedding, and the change in her was undeniable. She had gone from a woman trapped in her own fears and doubts to someone who was beginning to find peace, joy, and even a sense of belonging. The past few weeks had been filled with struggles, but also small moments of happiness, and now, she truly smiled.

As she entered the living room, Anita and Shweta noticed the shift in her. The way her face glowed with genuine happiness, the soft brightness in her eyes—it was clear to them that something had changed in Niharika.

"Look at you, Niharika," Anita said, her voice filled with warmth. "Keep smiling like this, beta. It suits you."

Shweta, who had always been kind-hearted, nodded in agreement. "Yes, Niharika. You’ve been through so much, but today, you look more at peace than I’ve ever seen you. Don’t ever stop smiling like this."

Niharika felt a wave of emotion rise within her at their words. She had always appreciated their kindness, but today, she felt it even more. Their love and care had started to seep into her heart, softening the walls she had built around herself over the years.

"Thank you, both of you," Niharika said, her voice slightly choked with gratitude. "I think I’m finally beginning to feel like I belong here."

Anita smiled warmly. "You always have, beta. We’re family now."

Shweta gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "And we’re always here for you, no matter what."

Niharika’s smile widened, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was truly home. Despite all the uncertainties and the complexities of her marriage to Shivaay, this moment felt real, and it gave her a glimpse of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

As Niharika was busy preparing breakfast, she hummed a light tune, feeling more at ease than she had in a long while. The warmth of the kitchen and the aroma of the aloo-paneer and gobhi stuffing for her paranthas filled the air, making her feel at home.

She turned to Ishaan, who was standing near the shelves. "Ishaan, can you please take out the wheat flour box from the upper shelf? I need it for the paranthas," she asked with a smile.

Ishaan, always eager to help, reached up to grab the box. However, as he did, the box slipped from his hands. In an instant, it fell directly onto Niharika, causing the flour to spill all over her.

Niharika stood there, frozen for a moment, covered in a cloud of white flour. She blinked, trying to process what had just happened.

Ivaan, who had been observing the entire scene, couldn’t contain his laughter. "Bhabhi," he said between chuckles, "Your beloved big brother-in-law can mess things up too!"

Riya, who was nearby, joined in the laughter, shaking her head. "I guess the flour was more slippery than it looked!" she teased, giggling.

Niharika let out a soft laugh, brushing the flour off her clothes, her smile never fading. "Well, at least now I don’t have to worry about kneading the dough," she said, trying to make light of the situation.

Ishaan, still looking guilty, quickly apologized. "I’m so sorry, Niharika Bhabhi! I didn’t mean to drop it like that."

Niharika waved her hand dismissively, still smiling. "It’s fine, Ishaan. It happens." She playfully added, "But next time, maybe I'll just stand further away from the shelf!"

Ivaan grinned, giving her a teasing wink. "Don’t worry, Bhabhi. You’ll get used to these little messes around here. But at least you know now—Shivaay’s side of the family isn’t perfect either!"

The playful teasing and lightheartedness of the moment made Niharika feel even more connected to her new family. She knew there would be plenty more moments like this, and she was beginning to enjoy them more than she ever thought she would.

After the flour incident, Niharika chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she cleaned up the mess. The laughter from Ivaan and Riya echoed in the background, but she didn't mind it. She had gotten used to their playful teasing by now. After giving them a mock glare, she decided it was best to head to her room and freshen up.

She made her way upstairs, passing by Anand, who asked with a curious smile, "Beta, what happened?"

Niharika looked at Ishaan, who was still trying to hide his guilty smile, and replied with a playful smirk, "Chacha-sa, ask your son."

Anand raised an eyebrow, amused by her response. "Ishaan, what did you do this time?" he asked, his tone teasing but kind.

Ishaan was about to respond when Ivaan jumped in, still chuckling. "Don't worry, bauji. It's just a little flour misfire, nothing to worry about. But Bhabhi does have a way of making even a flour disaster look graceful."

Niharika rolled her eyes and smiled softly. "I'm going to take a quick bath and get changed," she said, walking past them with a lighthearted air.

As she entered her room, she couldn't help but smile at how, in the span of just a month and a half, her life had changed so much. From being unsure and distant in the beginning, she had found herself truly laughing, sharing moments with the family, and enjoying the little things—like the playful teasing of her brothers-in-law.

It was these moments that made her feel at peace, a far cry from the uncertainty she had once felt.

Niharika came out of the bathroom, wrapped in her towel, her thoughts on getting dressed for the day. She looked around the room for her red anarkali suit, which she had carefully laid out earlier. The leggings were on the bed, and the top was neatly placed beside them. But as she looked around for the dupatta, she couldn’t find it.

She checked every corner of the room, even behind the furniture, thinking maybe she had moved it while preparing. But it was nowhere to be found. Where did I put it? she thought, her heart rate picking up. She was sure she had left it there.

Okay, calm down, she thought. It’s just a dupatta. It can’t have disappeared her eyes still scanning the bed and the nearby areas. Nothing.

She pulled open the closet, thinking maybe it had slipped inside, but the shelves were neatly arranged, and there was no sign of the missing dupatta. Her mind raced as she mentally retraced her steps. She was certain she had placed it on the bed, right beside her outfit.

The towel clung to her skin, and the cool air made her shiver slightly, but she refused to let that distract her. She walked back to the bed and started searching again, her fingers moving over the fabric, checking for any misplaced folds.

It was at that moment she felt something—something soft brushing against her hand. She pulled back the blanket and found nothing. What is happening? she thought. She had checked everywhere, but there was still no sign of the dupatta.

With a deep breath, she shook her head. I’m overthinking this. It’s just a piece of fabric. But the feeling of unease remained. She glanced toward the door again, wondering if she should ask someone to help, but then she dismissed the thought. I’ll figure it out myself.

After several minutes of searching, Niharika sighed, defeated. The missing dupatta were nowhere to be found. She had no choice but to let it go for now. Looking through her wardrobe, she found another anarkali—this one a soft shade of pink with delicate gold embroidery. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t the outfit she had originally planned to wear.

She slid the dress on, the fabric flowing gracefully around her, and tied her hair up in a loose bun. She felt a pang of disappointment that she couldn’t wear her favorite red suit today, but she tried to push the feeling away.

The pink anarkali fit her perfectly, and she quickly adjusted her dupatta to match the outfit. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but smile. Despite the morning’s little hiccup, she looked elegant and poised, ready for whatever the day had in store.

Niharika grabbed her makeup kit, sitting down in front of the mirror as she began her usual routine. She applied a light foundation, smoothing it over her skin with gentle strokes, creating an even tone. A hint of blush to bring out the natural flush on her cheeks followed, giving her face a soft, healthy glow.

She then moved on to her eyes, carefully applying eyeliner to accentuate their natural shape. She added a coat of mascara to make her lashes appear longer and more defined, finishing off with a subtle swipe of eyeshadow in warm shades of gold and bronze that complemented her outfit.

A touch of nude lipstick completed the look, giving her a polished and elegant appearance without overdoing it. She took a moment to admire the reflection in the mirror. The makeup had enhanced her features, but it was still very much her.

She felt ready—ready to face the day, to step into the world with a quiet confidence. As she stood up and adjusted her anarkali one last time, she thought of Shivaay. She smiled softly, feeling the warmth of their recent conversation still lingering in her heart.

Niharika finally made her way downstairs, still a little distracted by the missing dupatta but trying to push the thought aside. As she reached the kitchen, she was greeted by the warm aroma of breakfast.

Anita and Shweta were already there, chatting and preparing the dishes. They turned toward her, noticing her new outfit.

"Looking beautiful as always, Niharika," Shweta commented, a gentle smile spreading across her face.

Niharika returned the smile, though a little absentmindedly, as she continued to help with the preparations. The atmosphere was calm, but something seemed to weigh on her. As she chopped vegetables, her thoughts kept drifting back to the missing dupatta, and she wondered why it bothered her so much.

"Everything okay, beta?" Anita asked, noticing Niharika’s distracted demeanor.

"Yes, chachisa," Niharika replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just a little lost in thought."

Anita and Shweta exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing more, allowing Niharika to finish what she was doing.

Meanwhile, in California, Shivaay’s mind was far from calm, his thoughts occupied by Niharika and the intense emotions that had been building ever since their last conversation. He had his own set of challenges, but there was no escaping the connection he felt to her.

Back at home, Niharika took a deep breath, ready to focus on the present moment. Whatever had happened with the missing dupatta, it was time to let it go. She smiled and continued her day.

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